Nov
12
“Going Rogue: An American Life” Review
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Before we begin, let me start by saying that I have not read Sarah Palin’s autobiography, “Going Rogue: An American Life,” but I’ll bet you a shiny nickel that Mrs. Palin hasn’t either. Rather, I would like to take this opportunity to make fun of her, and her book, and you if you’re a fan of hers.
But, isn’t this an entertainment site, you ask? It is. But Sarah Palin, for reasons beyond my understanding, somehow managed to capture the limited imaginations of dunderheads across the land. She became an overnight pop cultural sensation during the 2008 election cycle, leading me to believe that a large segment of our population is incurably insane. Inarticulate, completely without substance and not really all that sure just what in the hell the Vice President’s job description is, Palin became the absolute perfect choice for the Republican party to be “a heartbeat away from the Presidency” during John McCain’s ill-fated presidential bid.
Palin’s selection as the veep candidate suddenly gave McCain’s moribund campaign the piss and vinegar it was lacking. At the Republican National Convention, the entire country hung on her every word. In an especially dark moment in our recent past, many Americans even pretended to like hockey. Republicans by and large put their deep-seated misogyny on the shelf because Palin was just like them, a complete and total phony with a rather tenuous grasp on American government. She was also a MILF with more kids than Angelina Jolie. Her dimwitted supporters saw in Palin the same level of aggressive stupidy and ignorance that they’d come to expect from the Republican party and what McCain wasn’t delivering. As such, she hijacked the entire campaign.
And we all know how that turned out. Once the teleprompters were turned off and Palin had to sit down with reporters like Katie Couric or Charlie Gibson she began to reveal herself to undecided voters as someone totally out of her element. All her behind-the-scenes coaching was hardly enough to prepare her for hardball questions about what newspapers she reads on a regular basis. Palin was a rube, a hick who blasts wolves from a helicopter. She’d gone to five separate colleges to earn a Bachelor’s degree. The hayseed town she’d once been mayor of, Wasilla, was some $20 million in the hole because she’d had a hockey arena built there when the place really could’ve better been served by a drug treatment clinic. Meth’s a big problem in those parts.
But Palin’s diehard supporters would hear none of it. She was a devout Christian, the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card for those people. The woman could do no wrong by some folks’ estimation. Never mind she’d gotten pregnant with her first child out of wedlock; she ultimately married the father and had the baby. Never mind her daughter, Bristol Farms Palin, followed her mother’s crummy example and also had gotten pregnant out of wedlock; she, too, was going to marry the father and bring the baby to term. Never mind those allegations of Palin’s infidelity. The voters all wanted to commit infidelity with her anyway. Even weirder was all that hubub about the infant Trig Palin. In a rare turn, it wasn’t a question of who was the father. Rather, people were asking who was Trig’s biological mother.
Obama’s hard-fought win was the beginning of the end of Palin cult of personality, or so I thought. McCain didn’t even allow her anywhere near a microphone during his concession speech, and a butt-hurt Palin quietly retreated to Alaska as rumblings of a 2012 presidential bid gave her voters some degree of solace. Then inexplicably, she resigned from her job as Governor with a full two years left in her term. Regardless of whether or not the public was still interested in Palin, the mooseburger-eating genie was now out of the bottle. Her claims that the media had mistreated her during the election cycle (like hell) now seem disingenuous at best, as she seeks to reclaim the national stage once more in some capacity. This self-congratulatory autobiography of hers is just another attempt to refocus people’s attention on her.
With her political career pretty much over, it’s difficult to say what Palin’s next move will be. She clearly enjoyed being one of the most talked-about people in the country, but her fifteen minutes should be up by now, right? We could be so lucky.
-Brad Lohan
Please feel free to post your hateful and poorly-worded comments below.
Sep
23
“Just When You Thought It Was Safe” Review
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Since I started school, I haven’t been able to do as much recreational reading. But I did recently manage to squeeze in “Just When You Thought It Was Safe: A Jaws Companion” by Pat Jankiewicz. I’d recently attended the Jaws Triple Feature at the Aero, which Jankiewicz hosted, and my fandom for the franchise has been at an all-time high of late. “Jaws 2″ is hovering near the top of my Amazon.com Wish List. A week and a half ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Jankiewicz at the Los Angeles Comic Book and Sci-Fi Convention, where I picked up his book and promptly devoured it like a midnight swimmer.
I thought I knew everything about what had gone on the behind-the-scenes during the making of “Jaws” from having seen the documentary on the DVD and read Peter Biskind’s book, “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls.” But “Just When You Thought It Was Safe” has plenty of new interviews with cast and crew that lend more color to the exhausting shoot. The book also details the making of the three maligned sequels as well as the unproduced follow-ups like the “Airplane!”-style parody, “Jaws 3, People 0.” And now I need to track down a copy of the “Jaws 2″ novelization, a book that’s based on a different, darker script than the one that was actually produced.
“Just When You Thought It Was Safe” was a great antidote to all the dry books on film and screenwriting that I’ve been slogging through for class. I’m an easy mark when it comes to “making of” books, and yet it’s been awhile since I’ve cracked one that I enjoyed as much as this. They’re either photo essays you can get through in 15 minutes or mind-numbingly exhaustive. Jankiewicz’s book has the right balance of interviews and trivia. It should definitely be required reading for fans of the franchise, a beach read to be sure.
-Brad Lohan
May
28
Being a Completist
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Of the three rebootquels released so far this summer — excluding “Angels & Demons” because it’s unfortunately not a follow-up to Tom Hanks’ seminal “Bachelor Party” — I’ll only be picking up one on DVD. That would be “Star Trek.” “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” and “Terminator Salvation” are one-and-done films, movies I can’t imagine ever sitting through again for any reason whatsoever. As a completist, this causes me great pain.
When I fall in love with a franchise, I fall hard. I collect all manner of dumb bullshit associated with the film cycle. Currently, I own three out of the four “Star Trek” glasses from Burger King. I got a free t-shirt at the 12:01 am screening of the movie earlier this month. I’m even holding out hope that I’ll someday meet a green-skinned chick that I can add to my menagerie.
I’ve always been a collector. Toys, comics, DVDs, apparel, drinkware — I love all manner of useless crap that does not impress women. Last night I shaved with a Wolverine Quattro razor. Now that I have more discretionary income, not to mention an eBay account, I don’t have to wait for my birthday or Christmas to roll around, like I did when I was a kid, to add to my collection.
But what happens when a franchise starts to go stale? I own “X3: X-Men United,” but I can’t see myself giving it a spin again. If I lived closer to Amoeba Music — the puppy lake for DVDs I no longer wish to own — I’d probably sell it back as I did with “Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.” It’s a sin against completism, I know. Still, I can’t see myself shelling out money for movies and other ancillary junk that belong to a creatively bankrupt film series.
So does that make me an incompletist? I mean, I own “Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction” on DVD. I have a fairly high tolerance for misfires, all things being equal. But one can only love a franchise so much before having to let it go.
-Brad Lohan
Mar
26
My Favorite L.A. Haunts
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I need to get out more. That’s probably what some people think about me. Thing is, I actually don’t spend very much time at home. I do stuff. I go places. I’m not into dive bars or nightclubs, though. I like places that cater to my unique tastes: cult movies, comic books, sketch comedy, arcane collectibles and so forth. I also like hamburgers.
That said, here’s a list of my top 10 favorite haunts in the L.A. area:
This is easily my favorite movie house in L.A. I’ve been to more midnight movies here than I can count. The most recent one I saw was “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” They also show very obscure art films in extremely limited release. I can’t wait to see “Anvil” next month.
Looking for hard-to-find CDs or DVDs? I’d recommend Amoeba. Short on cash? Sell them your used DVDs and CDs for store credit or some greenbacks. Unfortunately, they used to have a more generous buyback policy than they do now. A few years ago, I walked away with almost $200 for a stack of ill-informed blind buys they gladly took off my hands. More recently, I left with about $18. Still, their selection of rare and used DVDs is significantly better than the bargain bin at your local Blockbuster.
This is where Paul Dini and Joss Whedon buy their comics. I know because I’ve seen them there. If you’ve never heard of them, well, you probably don’t read comics, watch cartoons or like cult TV shows. At any rate, HOS also knocks at least 10% off your purchases, and you don’t even need to have a pull file. Someone even spraypainted “Who Watches the WATCHMF” on the outside of their building. I don’t advocate vandalism, nor poor spelling, but that’s still kind of cool.
Right next door to the Nuart is the best video store in all of Los Angeles. Where else will you find a place that has a “Charles Bronson” section? Cinefile categorizes their movies by filmmaker, subgenre and even “Holy F***ing S***!” titles. This is where real cineastes rent or buy films. Brett Ratner goes here, too.
I’ll drive all the way from the Westside to Hollywood to catch a movie at the Dome every now and then. The last one was, of course, “Watchmen.” Here’s a theater that has some great filmmaker Q&As and screening series. I also found a book called “Playboy: Redheads” in their gift shop once. I couldn’t put it down!
I don’t like shopping in big box bookstores. I find their horror and film selections to be lacking. Oh, Barnes & Noble has a lot of books, but none that are rare or used. Dark Delicacies carries all manner of out-of-print titles, and the staff is immensely helpful. They also line up some great author and filmmaker signings. I got Lloyd Kaufman to autograph my copy of “Toxic Avenger: The Novel,” a book that’s quite a fetching read!
I don’t understand my fascination with the 1950s. Maybe it’s because my parents were born back then. I have no idea. Whatever the reason, I have nostalgia for a period in which I never lived. Fortunately, there’s a Cafe ’50s just a short walk from my apartment, and in my opinion, it’s the best in L.A.; there’s one in Venice and another in Sherman Oaks. I almost always get a hamburger and an Oreo cookie milkshake — with frozen yogurt instead of ice cream, of course. You can even play board games like Connect Four while waiting for your food. Fun fact: I really suck at Connect Four!
The sketch comedy shows at the Groundlings are always funnier than any Judd Apatow bromance picture now playing in theaters. There are some incredibly hysterical unknown actors — and a few known ones — performing either improv or scripted material every night. I personally prefer the scripted shows; improv can be a mixed bag.
Buying back your childhood? Well, if you’re constantly being outbid on eBay, try Blast From the Past. Here you’ll find all manner of collectibles from your childhood that you broke or wantonly discarded. The toys on the pegs here are way cooler than all the “Ben 10″ bullshit I see at Toys ‘R Us now.
The Third Street Promenade isn’t just a homeless talent show. Yes, there you’ll probably see the fat guy who paints himself silver and wears silver clothes and wants you to give him money because he can stand really still. But you’ll also find the Puzzle Zoo, another great place to pick up hard-to-find action figures from your childhood. It’s definitely a better way to spend your money than giving it to some d-bag with a guitar who sings U2 songs that I don’t even like when Bono sings them.
So those are the places that I spent most of my free time and my discretionary income. Check ‘em out.
-Brad Lohan
Mar
10
Clive Cussler Probably Cussed Up a Storm Over the Judge’s Ruling
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I’ve never read an entire Clive Cussler novel. I think I tried getting through “Sahara” once, but I couldn’t make it. Cussler’s books are James Bond novels for the retarded. As such, Hollywood has tried to adapt his works twice now, once in the late-’70s with the forgotten “Raise the Titanic” and then again in 2005 with the also forgotten “Sahara,” starring Matthew McConaughey as Dirk Pitt, Cussler’s Americanized approximation of 007. Fun fact: Breck Eisner, the son of former Disney studio boss Michael Eiser, directed “Sahara.”
After “Sahara” bombed, Cussler filed suit against Crusader Entertainment for violating the terms of their agreement. Cussler alleged that he had script approval, but the production company used a draft that was shitty in a way that Cussler had not signed off on. Not to be outdone, Crusader filed a countersuit against Cussler for exaggerating the popularity of the Dirk Pitt novels.
Well, the judge has ruled in favor of Crusader, and Cussler must now fork over $13.9 million in legal fees, according to AP. Talk about adding insult to injury. Cussler’s book was made into a box office failure first of all. Even worse, he now owes the production company that made the film over ten million clams! Of course, he’s going to appeal the decision, but still. What a pisser.
I’m currently working on my first novel. I’d love to see it turned into a film somewhere down the line. I just finished writing the scene where the hero bursts out of the belly of a Great White shark. There’s your teaser trailer right there, Hollywood. At any rate, Cussler’s dealings with the entertainment industry are definitely a cautionary tale for a novice like me. In fact, this story is the only thing with Cussler’s name on it that’s worth reading.
-Brad Lohan
Dec
31
“The Road” Lost Scene
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I started reading Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” — soon to be a major motion picture! — this evening. I haven’t picked up any of his other titles, though I did very much enjoy the film adaptation of “No Country for Old Men.” At the moment, I’m 50 pages in and will probably finish it over the long weekend.
Being a bit of a grammar Nazi, a grammar Nazi who also failed to assassinate Hitler, it took me a few pages to get used to McCarthy’s style. Contractions don’t have have hyphens, dialogue isn’t in quotes, and so forth. Almost all the paragraphs are separated from one another by triple spacing, which is an odd stylistic choice because I thought that was only done to shift the point of view or suggest a passage of time. Here it just sort of pads things out.
At any rate, McCarthy also has a very, very dreary tone. The book is set after some time after a catastrophic event (my money’s on Sarah Palin’s 2012 presidential bid) turned the planet into a giant charcoal briquette, hence the melancholia. But I find McCarthy’s narrative voice bordering on self-parody. It’s so morose, yet the heroes — a nameless father and his nameless young son — are somehow able to cope with all the horror going on around them as they travel down an empty road, heading south. And boy, isn’t how understated everything is that much more profound?!
So without further ado, what follows is my attempt at biting McCarthy’s style in a lost scene from “The Road:”
It was very cold, very wet, and very, very gray. The man wakened shortly before dawn broke. His boy was still asleep in his arms. Shivering and rail thin. He was so very thin. Rain marched heavily on their lean-to. It was cold. Wet. And gray.
Very gray.
The man silently left the tent. Cold, wet, gray rainfall was falling from the black sky. Black as a gravedigger’s cornhole.
He heard the boy calling out to him from inside the lean-to. He said: Papa, you there?
I am, said the man.
Rain still gray?
Grayer than all get out.
Im okay with it bein gray.
Me, too.
They were each other’s world entire.
-Brad Lohan
Dec
8
No “Forrest Gump II?”
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9/11 changed things, doncha know? I mean, I grew gills and can now breathe underwater. How are things different for you? If your name’s Forrest Gump, well, your sequel got killed.
Eric Roth, writer of “Forrest Gump” and the upcoming “Benjamin Button,” is doing press for the latter film and probably still fielding more questions about the former. “Gump” is a movie that’s taken a lot of flack in recent years for being a biting satire of the boomer generation with a uniquely conservative bent. I was oblivious to the subtext when I originally saw it in ‘94 but now can understand why people don’t like it. What bothers me about the film more than anything is its overwhelming schmaltz. It’s a movie that coasts on nostalgia and sentimentality, and as such, it’s exactly the kind of film that captures the imaginations of people who like the turn their brains off at the movies. Hell, the film’s titular hero can’t turn his brian on!
At any rate, according to Slash Film, after September 11th it was decided that an adaptation of Winston Groom’s novel “Gump and Co.” would not go forward. The world had changed!
To be perfectly honest, I think a “Forrest Gump” sequel would be more relevant now than ever. Skipping over the ’80s and ’90s, we should plug Forrest into the 21st Century. Make this an alternate universe and have him win the Presidency in 2000. With a hawkish Lt. Dan as his Veep, Gump could then launch his own War on Terror in the wake of 9/11. Why not have him invade the wrong country for starters? Then throw in some highly-evolved dinosaur commandos, and you’ll have the movie of the decade. The script practically writes itself.
That’s all I have to say about that.
-Brad Lohan
Dec
8
No “Jurassic Park IV?”
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The death of author Michael Crichton seems to have also killed the dormant “Jurassic Park” franchise. According to CHUD.com, producer Kathleen Kennedy said that Crichton’s death is a “sign” that the film series should remain extinct. Balls.
I remember reading a few years ago that John Sayles had turned in a script for “Jurassic Park IV” that sounded sick. It was about a platoon of highly-evolved dinos that go on secret missions or somesuch. The story pretty much abandoned the approach of the first three films that was becoming a little redundant. How many times can people find themselves stuck on an island that’s teeming with prehistoric beasties?
Still, I love dinosaurs, particularly man-eating dinosaurs, and there is a dearth of movies about dinosaurs eating men at the multiplex. I heard rumblings about a “Turok: Dinosaur Hunter” movie being in development. For a property that’s both a comic book and a video game, it’s incredible that Hollywood hasn’t fast-tracked that one.
At any rate, for now I guess I’ll have to get my dino fix at Universal Studios Hollywood. Maybe someday the anamatronic thunder lizards will go haywire while I’m on Jurassic Park: The Ride. One can only hope.
-Brad Lohan
Nov
5
RIP Michael Crichton
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I actually just read “The Terminal Man” about 6 months ago. I hadn’t picked up a book by Michael Crichton since “Timeline” in early-2000, but I’d become fascinated with mind control recently. And I wanted to make sure I hadn’t inadvertently ripped him off in a script I’d written last winter. I hadn’t. At any rate, “The Terminal Man” is pure Crichton — briskly paced, accessible and loaded with ideas. The book reminded me why I’d dug his work so much as a teenager.
He didn’t write “hard sci-fi.” I tried reading William Gibson’s “Neuromancer” a month or so ago. I couldn’t do it. The techno-jargon became virtually unreadable. I made it through the first third before I realized I had no idea what was going on. Crichton wrote science fiction in English. He took the esoteric and made it something the average reader could understand. He brought the techno-thriller to the mainstream.
When I read “Jurassic Park” shortly before the film came out, it was magic. I enjoyed the movie — co-written by Crichton — even more. I spent the a chunk of my adolescence reading some of his other titles: “Sphere,” “Congo,” “Disclosure,” “The Lost World.” I regret having never read “The Andromeda Strain,” but will remedy that before the year is out.
I’d moved away from Crichton’s output by the time I graduated high school. I was caught up in the “Star Wars” expanded universe novels, reading official fanwank that had little to no bearing on the actual film series. I did, however, pick up “Timeline” in 2000 and enjoyed it immensely. The movie turned out to be bilge, but so were “Congo” and “Sphere.” Film adaptations of Crichton’s novels were a mixed bag. I think the lesser ones suffer from a lack of thunder lizards. Imagine the greatness of seeing Sean Connery and Wesley Snipes take on a T-Rex in the middling “Rising Sun.”
According the AP, Crichton has passed away at 66. I know that the author and I parted ways recently when it comes to global warming, but he nonetheless inspired me in my early teens to try my own hand at writing. He stoked my imagination in ways that few writers have and challenged me to create fantastical worlds, rooted in science fact, not fiction.
-Brad Lohan
Sep
10
Quantum of Awesomeness
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I know I must’ve read the short story, “Quantum of Solace.” I don’t remember what happens in it, but I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the upcoming film. Most of the Bond movies adapted from Ian Fleming’s books and short stories aren’t terribly slavish to the source material. The first half of the film version of “Casino Royale” isn’t even in the book. And there’s nothing wrong with that. So long as the filmmakers capture the spirit and the tone of Fleming’s work — unlike, say, the horrorshow that is “Die Another Day” — I’m in.
Enter the new trailer for “Quantum of Solace” on Yahoo Movies. Picking up something like 20 minutes after the supremely badass final moments of “Casino Royale,” the film represents a first for the franchise — a direct sequel. Since most of the Bond novels were adapted out of order, continuity had always been a little shaky in the series. For example, the villain Blofeld doesn’t seem to recognize Bond in the film version of “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” although they’d met previously in “You Only Live Twice.” To be fair, both characters were played by different actors in the two films. So there’s that.
At any rate, “Quantum of Solace” seems to address the criticism that there’s no character development in these movies. Here, we see a grief-stricken James Bond (Daniel Craig), mourning the recent loss of the incredibly hot Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), and killing his way through the ranks of a shadowy terrorist organization in foreign lands. I’ve always preferred Bond movies in which he’s out for revenge, not just doing it for Queen and Country. He should have some personal stake in the proceedings. Otherwise, he’s just a well-dressed, jet-setting Terminator.
Thanks to the release date shell game Warner Bros. is playing with “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” Sony’s pushed back the opening of “Quantum of Solace” one week, from November 7th to the 14th. I guess it could’ve been worse, they could’ve move it to next summer. That would at least give me plenty of time to re-read the complete works of Ian Fleming.
-Brad Lohan